


Good Girl

by deadbitch



Category: 88rising, Filthy Frank - Fandom, George miller - Fandom, Joji miller - Fandom
Genre: Cigarettes, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Impact Play, Nicknames, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Size Kink, Smoking, Smut, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29792775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadbitch/pseuds/deadbitch
Summary: This was created shamelessly on a whim and was written in good fun. Please remember that this is a work of fiction and does not represent Joji in real life. Respecting his privacy and keeping indecent works such as this within the realm of lighthearted fiction is vital to upholding a healthy, respectful parasocial relationship.
Relationships: George "Joji" Miller/Original Character(s), George "Joji" Miller/You, George “Joji” Miller/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Good Girl

Such a small, skinny body, has no business perching itself atop him. His cock is buried deep and thick to stretch her out, and she ruts on it, bounces on it, achingly, with little fists wound up in his white cotton t-shirt to grip it like a lifeline. And his hands—two vascular, olive-skinned rakes, one of which nursing a cigarette between its middle and forefinger—stay at the supple flesh of her meager hips as he pushes her up and down, up and down, to fuck his shaft.

“You’re so tiny, baby girl,” pants a red-faced George with wet eyes and parted, petal lips. “So fucking tiny.” And he groans when she rocks her hips back and forth, wiggling on top of him in the needy way that she does when she's trying to stimulate the most sensitive spot within herself. His eyes aren’t on hers, but are instead low and dark, watching his cock disappear inside of her with utmost gratification. He brings the cigarette up to the corner of his lips and lets it rest there, stationary, as his hands work her body down onto his cock. “Princess, I could fuckin’ break you,” grunts George. Her motions quicken with a soft, shuddering whine, and it’s with a cock of his well-curved lips, partitioned by his burning Newport, that he asks, “Does it get my little girl excited when Daddy talks to her like this?” Her head is bobbing up and down, limply, and he snaps his hips up once or twice to fuck into her. She cries out and he demands, “Let me hear it.”

“Yes—yes, sir.” Her little clit, sensitive and swollen, drags against the firm bone of his pelvis, and she’s full and aching. One of his hands relinquish the caramel curve of her side to pull the cigarette from his mouth, exhaling a wisp of smoke into the air. Her fluids drip down her thighs and dampen the heather gray cotton of George’s sweatpants beneath her, creating an obscenely wet sound when she touches back down onto his hips. He’s using her like a ragdoll, the way he lifts her up and slams her down with his unoccupied hand. With the other, George carelessly taps the ash off aside the bed. 

“I feel you,” gasps his love, and she’s too stricken with humiliation to look him in the eyes. Her head slumps low into the warm crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of tobacco and an earthy cologne as she grinds down onto him, full to the hilt.

George says, “Where do you feel me, angel?” and his voice is a hoarse purr muffled only by the tobacco balanced back between his lips.

“ _In my,_ ” she begins, sniveling against his throat when he rolls his hips up into her. “ _In my tummy._ ”

In response, George lowers his left hand to cover the meager swell of her lower abdomen from under her loose hoodie, his hoodie, and presses his palm into it. “Here?” he says, and feels her nod up against his collar. “It’s deep in your little pussy, huh, baby? My pretty slut’s leaking all down Daddy’s cock.” She keens into his neck at his words, and the poor thing’s thighs tremble helplessly astride George’s hips. She’s ready to collapse, to give out against his cock, until he scoops her up in his strong arms as if she weighs nothing and places her beneath him onto the mattress. George had become disconnected from her during the process, and she mewls underneath him with feeble pleas for more as he strikes her inner thighs, hard, and pushes back into her dripping heat. Inch by agonizing inch, she takes him back in.

“‘M so full,” she whimpers, watching George lick the pad of his thumb and then reach down to rub circles into her clit. “Daddy, it’s too big for my. . . .” She trails off, too red and too embarrassed to complete her sentence.

A gravelly laugh leaves his chest and he says, “Nice and fuckin’ tight. Barely fits, baby.” He doesn’t waste time in building speed and instead rams his hips into hers in jerky, erratic motions. He abandons his Newport, which is by now a paper stub of a filter, and flicks it into the ashtray at their bedside table so that he can crash his starved, aching lips into hers. Tobacco floods her senses and his natural, manly scent mingles with his worn cologne, filling every inch of her small body with an overwhelming sensation that turns her mind into static.

He abuses her this way, taking purchase around her slim thighs as his fingers dig bruises into her sensitive skin. Her cries are quiet and desperate, tinged with the demure call of a woman typically much too bashful to vocalize her passion. “ _Please,_ ” she gasps, looking up at him through her damp eyelashes as she clings to the hem of his shirt. She’s much too fucked-out to formulate proper sentences, so she tells him, “ _Wanna come,_ ” in a broken hiccup as her daddy grunts above her and punctuates her every syllable with the rough jolt of a harsh thrust.

George’s eyes are dim with mischief, taken with his own pleasure as his breaths fall into a harsh, ragged pattern that fans over her lips. “Is that— _fuck, baby—_ is that what my little princess wants?”

And she’s practically singing, “Yes, yes please,” as her thighs are getting pinned apart and she’s getting fucked into the mattress.

“You want to come on Daddy's dick, don’t you?” teases George through his bated breath. And she’s nodding in rapid up and down movements with her shut eyes and her bitten lip, letting George have his way with her aching sex. She wants it. She’s closer than she has ever been before, and he’s fueling the growing heat between her thighs. And then he’s pulling out.

Her response is a high-pitched string of, “ _No, please, oh please, don't do this to me, Daddy,_ ” that has George laughing lowly above her. He grants her some means of clemency by rubbing his calloused thumb over her swollen clit in agonizing circles, leaving her quivering and at his mercy. His cock is still stiff, still dripping with her ample juices, and she can feel its tantalizing heat centimeters away from where she so desperately wants it. Her little doe eyes plead for mercy as she gazes up at him from beneath his black fringe, tacky with sweat, and his lips are parted and breathing heavily as he grins that troublesome, carnivorous sort of grin that she knows all too well.

She moves to reach down, to wind her thin fingers around the base of his shaft, only to be met with a sharp slap to her wrist and a harsh grip against her chin. His eyes harden. “You want Daddy inside of you again?” breathes George, grazing the tip of his thumb over the outline of her lower lip.

“Yes please.”

His eyes are lidded and low and he says, “Then you’re gonna sit still like a good girl and take whatever the fuck I give you. Understand?” She’s nodding limply again and he presses his thumb past her lips, letting her taste the salt of his flesh against her tongue. “What do we say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” He extracts his thumb and pats her cheek lovingly before winding his palm back and striking her across the face just enough to leave it pink. A severed moan escapes her little lips and he chuckles as he runs his fingertips over the mark to quell the sting.

He draws up, the mattress creaking under the weight of his knees as he leans over to rifle through the bedside table drawer, and she feels her heart sink to the pit of her stomach. “What’re you doing?” slurs his baby, bleary and anxious. Her hands haven’t once left the front of his t-shirt, her knuckles bleeding into a white gradient from where she has been clutching at it all night long.

“Here it is,” grunts George more to himself than to her as he procures the small object in his hand. The little black vibrator, which had only ever been used once or twice, sits quiet in the dip of his warm palm and she suddenly goes shy. She’s never been very adventurous in the bedroom. Her eyes go big and coy when she sees the toy in his hands.

“What are you going to do with that?”

“Depends on what you can take.” He switches it on. The toy hums in his hand as a pleased look graces his features. His eyes rove down, and upon taking notice of her anxiety, George unfurls one of her hands from his shirt and lets her feel its low buzz under her fingers. “Not so scary, huh?”

She brushes her thumb across the sleek black silicone and her skin flutters under the pins and needles sensation. It’s a flat, pear-shaped affair with a shallow cup on the end that tapers into a blunt oval. She recalls vaguely of the time he had used it on her before, of how it had hugged her clit and sent her spasming against his hand. The thought makes her cheeks mantle and her wet thighs clench hopelessly around nothing. Glancing back up at her waiting love, she shakes her head decisively and passes it back into his hands. “Not scary.”

George smiles in that same hungry way and kisses her lips and the sensitive space just below the shell of her ear and when he asks her, “Do you want to play?” it comes as a raspy sort of whisper that raises the downy blonde hairs spanning the surface of her arms. The stubble along George’s jawline tickles her neck and the silver ring in his left ear is cold on her skin and she parts her needy thighs for him, absolutely pliant under his touch. She digs her nails into the flesh of her palms.

“Please,” she whimpers in reply. 

His dick is still hard and sticky with her fluids, and he pumps it with a languid fist, watching as a serous pearl of precome beads up on the tip. His thumb presses into it, spreading the lubricant over his skin before he rubs the tip of his cock over her clit, leaving her whining. “I haven’t even put it in yet and you’re already so noisy,” George laughs. He runs his tongue over his lower lip and then pushes into her before she has the opportunity to protest. Her cry is sudden and strong and she throws her head back into the pillow as he bottoms out. “ _Yeah,_ ” grunts George. “That’s it. Take it like a good girl.” His hand not occupied with the vibrator trembles as he slides it up her hoodie, _his hoodie,_ exposing the smooth surface of her honey-colored stomach and the modest swell of her perky breasts.

It’s when George places the vibrator right beneath her navel that she gasps, biting down on her bottom lip to muffle the sudden onslaught of moans that leave her chest. His hand sinks lower, letting her skin know the feeling, letting it caress her soft thighs and the hill of her pelvis. Without warning, he presses the toy right up against her clit as he slams into her, and she spills out an indecent, “ _Please, fuck!_ ” in her excitement, earning her another smack to her cheek.

“Watch your mouth,” grits George, swinging his hips at a pace too fast and too rough for their own good. Her form is quivering and small, too small, and it’s with ease that he has her legs up on his shoulders so that he can fuck into her deep enough for the tip to kiss her cervix. “Fuck _,_ ” he hisses when he finds the friction he’s been seeking all night.

“ _There,_ ” she pants, snapping her tiny hips up to meet both the press of the vibrator and his persistent thrusts, which have lost rhythm in his urgency.

A dirty laugh leaves his lips. “What? Here?” he says, rutting up into her leaking cunt. She nods, feverish, and he says, “Does it feel good, princess?” A soft click goes off somewhere beneath them and the vibrations increase in intensity.

Her words are chiefly incoherent babble aside from the distinguishable, “Yes, sir,” that she cries, water welling in the hazel pools of her eyes.

“Who owns this little pussy?” he grits, letting her tears fall in thin rivulets down her face.

She hiccups a soft, “Daddy does.”

“Then come. Come on my cock like a good girl,” he says. The permission feels like freedom, like the greatest release she has ever known, and when George switches the toy up to its highest setting, she’s thrown over the precipice, plummeting headfirst into her orgasm. Her little legs shake and she clamps around his length, squealing at an embarrassing volume, and she can just barely register George’s warm chuckle somewhere above her as she tries in desperation to fuck herself onto him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re gonna make Daddy go weak at the knees,” he says with his chin tipped up and his words breathless. He rides her through her orgasm until she’s hissing at the sensation and he has to pull the vibrator away from her exposed clit. “C’mere, little one.” He pulls himself from her swollen entrance and beckons her with two precise fingers as he sits up fully on his knees. “You know what to do.” And she does. Her bony hand encircles his shaft as her lips come to envelop the tip, her lids laying over her glassy eyes. George’s hand is strong and humane at the back of her head, his fingers threading in her messy locks. “You can take it deeper. Go ahead,” he says, quiet and labored as his chest heaves. To encourage her, he presses down on the back of her head, letting the blunt of his nails scratch her scalp lovingly. Her cheeks burn as she bobs her head at a slow pace that gains momentum with his soft words of encouragement, her hand working to stroke what her mouth can't take.

“Yeah, like that,” he says, sucking in through his teeth when her cheeks hollow out and she takes a little more of him than she can handle, resulting in a faint choke on her part. George takes up a fistful of her hair, too aroused to further contemplate whether or not she can take it, and eases her up and down his length at a pace he finds suitable. Being used so thoroughly at his disposal, she trembles and moans through quiet gasps for air, and he's telling her, “Gonna let me come in your mouth, aren’t you, baby?” as if she can answer. She lets him shove her down until she can’t take any more and he’s holding her there for a moment as he groans a broken string of his native tongue, spilling his seed into her warm mouth. George pulls her off of his cock by the back of her hair and she pants, looking up at him through matted eyelashes. “Don't swallow it yet. Open up,” he commands as he fishes his cell phone from where it had become lodged between the pillows. She complies. The flash of his camera blinds her momentarily and he smiles a dirty little smile behind the screen, prompting her to swallow shortly after.

He puts his phone away and she asks him, “Did I do good?” as he wipes himself off with a tissue and ties his sweatpants back around his hips.

“Yeah. You took it like a big girl,” he says. His hands cup her face affectionately and he kisses her, slow. When George attempts to pull away, she encloses her thin arms around his neck, spurring him to take her under the knees, supporting his baby’s back with a strong bicep as he rises to his feet. She cradles her cheek against his collar.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”


End file.
